To swell this complement of death with mine;
For all I had to do is done, and life
Is worse than nothing now.
Prince. Get you to horse,
And leave the wind behind you.
Luis. Nay, my lord,
Whom should he fly from? not from me at least,
Who loved his honour as my own, and would
Myself have help’d him in a just revenge,
Ev’n on an only son.